After having lost my job, I’ve had a really hard time with just about everything lately. My religious path and what I want to gain from it is no exception. I’ve always found it silly that the first thing to go when things get tough is the faith. I have the faith–I’m sure I’ll be fine–but it’s so hard to figure out anything. I feel like a complete failure for having been fired. Of course, fired for lies and horse shit, but I was fired and it’s the first time. I feel, as I’ve said before, that I need to take this time to learn things. To reconstruct who I am, who I want to be, and what I want to do with my life. In order to do that, I think I’m going to have to pry loose every ounce of mortar that holds me together.
I have a lot of personal shit that I refuse to work through. I’ve thought about getting counseling of some form or another, but I don’t hold much hope that going to some random person once a week will help me flesh out the major issues that are mucking up my waking life. I know that Hwt-Hrw was thrown into my life because I need to take care of these things. I need to do it because I’m fucking everything up in my relationship by not working through the things. This is one of the issues that I have to remove the wall to and get busy with my bad revealing self. I started to a long time ago on a different blog but it hurt too much.
You know, I was actually making some progress so the EM had to fuck me over.
All right. All right. That’s really not a nice thing to say and I shouldn’t blame her. I do, but I shouldn’t. She went completely bat shit insane for whatever reason and I have to believe that she wasn’t jealous of me and my power. I feel, though, that she was. And that she kind of sabotaged me. I don’t know if I mean to say that she cast a spell at me and it’s fucked me over. I don’t know if what I’m trying to say is that she’s done some super focusing of her insanity and aimed at me in an effort to throw me off the upper cliff path that I was on, forcing me to fall twenty feet to the path below. A path that I had already trod up. See? I can see my own footprints there, there, and there. And I really despise how completely fucking paranoid this entire paragraph sounds.
I HATE PARANOIA. (Even if it’s true.)
So, I had started working through this stuff even before Hwt-Hrw came into my life, but like I said: I got derailed on the path that is my life. But, what I realize from that time in my life is that I had my son and very little work time and The Sister. I had nothing to focus on except to get better, to rewire my super-de-duper fucked up programming. So, I think that’s part of what Papa Legba was trying to do in getting me fired: so that I can focus the time that I need on working through my fucked up shit. And I really fucking despise the fact that I have to start all. fucking. over. Ugh!
But, at least I know that I can’t just pick up where I left off.
I think a lot of this working through shit is entirely brought about because of my pagan religious choices. I never would have started doing this if it hadn’t been at The Sister and the EM’s pushing. My two coven mates told me it would be good for me and they were right. Unfortunately, it stagnated. And you know what? Then so, too, did my religious life. I went for a year and a half without even trying to practice a fucking thing. A. Year. And. A. Half. And then Sekhmet pulled me out of that rut. I don’t know if she pulled me out, tossed me out of a ditch, or just threatened me until I got up and dusted myself off. In any case, it was Sekhmet, the healer, who came to me and said, “It’s time to do this right.”
And still, I, damn my eyes, fucking hedged. I talk about how I have so much trust and belief in my goddess, but I fucking hedged when she said it was time to get better. What a fucking liar I can be. But then again, you don’t lie so well to anyone but yourself. Or whatever. I completely froze. Ask anyone, most especially the Hubby. I’m so cold and analytical that I don’t even know how to light the fires of passion that brought the two of us together. I’m so frosty that I can’t even hear Hwt-Hrw anymore. And I know it’s because of this, this… cold hard exterior protecting a sobbing, shifting, uncertain, scared interior that I’ve lost contact with her. I’m just grateful that I can still feel Sekhmet.
Though, I know that it won’t last if I keep this up.
It’s funny how when one major thing alters in your life, you get pummeled with the changes everywhere. I lost my job and that should be that, but nope. This one major life path opens up, but there are the lesser known paths and the forks in the road and the shortcuts that I have to consider, too. And of course, that’s why I now have a hundred fucking thousand decisions to make. That and, you know, it might actually like make me strong enough to MAKE THE FUCKING DECISIONS instead of waffling a thousand times.
Wouldn’t it be nice to get rid of that nasty habit? Why, yes. Yes, it would.
What makes this all that much worse is that I wish I could talk to the Hubby about all of this stuff. If I could just spout out everything that I’ve been rambling in here, I think he’d be, “Well, okay.” The last time I did this whole working through shit thing, I forewarned him. I remember that we were sitting in the basement and I told him that I was probably going to be bitchier than usual because I was working through some shit. And he said, “Okay.” (This is his normal response to everything. “I’m leaving you.” “Okay.” “You have no clean clothes to wear to work and I don’t care.” “Okay.” To say that the Hubby is an easy-going kind of person would (A) be a complete lie since I’ve seen him lose his temper and (B) would be an understatement. He really works hard at the ineffable demeanor.) I wish I could do that again! But, for some reason, I just can’t talk to him.
It’s not even just about this shit. It’s about anything.
We. Don’t. Talk. At. All.
And I know that about 97.9% of the fault lies with me and it’s BECAUSE of that soul-sucking job. The other difference is that when we were living at his mom’s house, we had to band together. We were like living on this island of broiling hatred and anger and if we didn’t stand together, then we weren’t going to make it through the hard time. This is another hard time. I see that, but we don’t have to band together as tightly as we did before. Shit, we obviously don’t have to band together at all since we’re not. And we’re both still alive and mucking through. But, you know, I have to wonder if he gets as lonely as I do in this barren sea of No Talk.
And shit, how am I going to fix the sex shit if we don’t even talk?
May the gods grant me the strength I need to get through this.
AND I SWEAR THAT IF ANYONE SO MUCH AS HINTS THAT SUTEKH IS WELCOME TO THIS DECONSTRUCTION PARTY, I WILL BE VERY MAD.